


The Keepers of Pandora's Box

by PWeasley99



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Original Work
Genre: Action, Cliff hangers, F/M, Fangirls, Manipulation, Original work - Freeform, Romance, Suspence, awkward moments, evil pandora, irregular updates due to life, loosely based off the mortal instruments books, so sorry in advance, supernatural themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 18:50:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7475796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PWeasley99/pseuds/PWeasley99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off the Mortal Instruments Series.<br/>Plagued by hideous nightmares, Autumn Barret, typical fangirl, tries to carry on living a normal life in her London home. But when she stumbles upon a secret meeting in her own house in the middle of the night, her life is suddenly turned upside down as she tries to discover the meaning behind her nightmares, and save the world as we know it. Includes demons, supernatural abilities and hot guys. What more could you ask for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Legend of Pandora's Box

After Prometheus gave the people the gift of fire, Zeus was angry and decided to punish the people, who were so pleased with Prometheus’s gift to them. He requested help from the other gods to make a special woman, who was beautiful; bright and clever, and could play lovely music. Zeus called her Pandora.

Zeus then sent for Epimetheus, Prometheus’s brother. “Here is a wife for you,” he said. “She is a reward for making all the animals on Earth.” Zeus gave Pandora and Epimetheus a box which was bound and locked. “Take this box and keep it safe. I must warn you,” said Zeus, “that you must never open it.”

Epimetheus thanked Zeus and gazed at Pandora. She was so beautiful that he forgot that his brother, Prometheus, had warned him never to accept gifts from the other gods. He took Pandora away and soon they were married. They were quite happy together. Epimetheus also took special care to put the box that Zeus had gave them in a dark corner of his house.

Back then, the world was a wonderful place to live in. No one was ever ill or grew old. No one was ever unkind or unpleasant. The only problem was, Pandora was curious about the locked box and the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to know what was in it. Could it jewels or some other precious things?

Day after day, Pandora would beg Epimetheus to open the box and every day he refused. But one morning, when her husband had gone out, Pandora crept into the room and stared at the box, before finally deciding to open it.

She broke off the lock with a tool. Then, hardly daring to breathe, she slowly lifted the lid. Before she could get the chance to look inside, there was a terrible screaming, wailing noise. She jumped back, terrified, as horrible things started to rapidly stream out of the box; hate and jealousy, cruelty and anger, hunger and poverty, pain and sickness, old age and death.

Pandora tried to slam down the lid but it was too late. Then one last thing, very small and pretty, fluttered out of the box; hope.

People would now suffer all kinds of terrible things, but because they had hope, they would never despair.

[Credit to Usborne Greek Myths (Amery, 2000)]


	2. Prologue

It is just like any other one of my many dreamscapes. I am walking through an empty city on a foggy, deserted street, where buildings loom menacingly all around. The gutters are packed with pollution and the air is cold and smells of fuel exhaust, while the sky is grey and dark. The street lights flicker and make a sort of electric buzzing noise as I walk by. Shadows that belong to nothing in particular look out from the confined alley ways as I walk along. In this scene, I always wear a black hooded jumper with pockets, in which my hands rest. I wear black jeans and black converse sneakers with white laces. I can hear the shadows whispering, but I never know exactly what they were saying. The only words I catch are ‘she’, ‘her’ and ‘stranger’. I know they are talking about me, yet I try to ignore them and keep my head down and my eyes forward, looking to my destination; nowhere. I have never been to this place before, yet, I always keep coming back.

I come to a fork in the road. Then, she appears. The fourteen year old girl that I always comes across at this exact spot, every night. I don’t exactly know how I know her age, it is just knowledge that comes with the dream. She skips across the road and stops when she gets to the footpath. The grey clouds started to release huge raindrops, and before long, it was pouring with rain. Amongst all the raindrops that fell, the girl seemed unfazed, in fact, they seemed to be dodging her, as she stood with her back to me, looking up at the dreary, grey sky. I stood still, freezing and wet, my hands in my jumper pockets, shivering, yet somehow transfixed by this girl.

Suddenly, the girl’s head spun all the way around and stared at me. I did a double-take, but the girl’s head still remained in the position is was before; her chin resting between her shoulder blades, staring at me with those cold, dead eyes. It looked as though she had awoken from a long sleep and immediately plunged her head into a bucket of ice water. Without warning, the girl reached up and grabbed a handful of her soft, red curls and tugged. Her entire scalp and face peeled off to reveal course, black curls, pasty pale skin and eyes as black as a raven’s beak. Her mouth opened and she let out a single grunt, “Box”. She grunted “Box”, “Box” over and over again. Her voice was as coarse as crushed gravel.

Right on schedule, I felt a tingling sensation in my toes that soon spread to my hands and my entire body. Then, I was falling into the darkness. Lost at sea in her dark, lifeless eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up with a start. My sheets were drenched in sweat and my pillow was on the floor. I reached down to pick it up and threw it back on my bed. It was still dark outside and the moon was a perfect crescent, illuminating light onto the thin branches of the tree outside my window. I looked at the digital clock on my bedside table, which read exactly one o’clock. I woke up at this time every night to the same reoccurring nightmare. 

The sound of talking from downstairs reached my room. Who could be in my house at this time of night? I retrieved my purple dressing gown, my thick-rimmed glasses and my hair brush (it was the only weapon I could find at this time in the morning). Before I reached the door, I passed the mirror, catching a glimpse of my tired and bothered self. My hair was a bird’s nest of thick, auburn frizz. Some of it was damp with my sweat, sticking to my pale face and down my back all the way to my tailbone. I used the hairbrush to push my hair back off my face. I then proceeded to wipe the sleep out of my eyes and adjust my glasses. I looked at my reflection again. A freckled, average face with hair that couldn’t be tamed. The only thing that was different were the eyes that stared back at me. Normally, they were a rare shade of turquoise. Now, they seemed to radiate an eerie, purple glow. I could’ve gazed at my unusual eyes for the remainder of the night, but the talking down stairs seemed to be getting ever louder; I feared that it could wake my parents and my older sister. I crept out of my room and into the dark hallway (nearly tripping over my laptop and my Harry Potter novels in the process). Even in England, in the last month of winter, it still felt colder than normal.

I felt my way along the wall, passing my parents’ room and my older sister’s room along the way. The name plate above her door read ‘Athena’ in curly writing. Before I was born, my parents went to Greece on a holiday and ended up adopting my sister. They called her Athena, after my mother’s favourite Greek goddess.

I peered into Athena’s room to see only darkness. I waited for my eyes to adjust before looking again. Her martial arts gear was all over the floor, her bed was messy and unmade and her jewellery was scattered all over her chest of draws. The curtains were drawn and her fluffy, pale blue rug was rolled up in the corner. The only thing missing was Athena herself. This didn’t surprise me; she was always sneaking out to see her ‘friends’. ‘What sort of friends meet up at one in the morning?’ I thought to myself. I had never met her friends. She never really talked about them.

My thoughts were interrupted by the talking downstairs getting louder in volume, and it was starting to sound like chanting. I decided to search for Athena later and struggled to get down the stairs quickly and stealthily (which is a difficult task to accomplish, especially since our stairs are old and creaky). I crossed the living area to the dining room, feeling very uncertain and, suddenly, very self-conscious of how I looked. ‘Who cares how I look?’ I thought. ‘This is my house! Whoever it is, is trespassing on my private property!’

The flickering glow of a candle cast a dim light out of the dining room onto the polished wood floor of the living area. I stole a look through the archway to the dining room to find our long, six-seater table inhabited by six people wearing black cloaks, holding hands and chanting in a language I recognised as Greek. A leather-bound, locked, black box sit at the centre of the table, surrounded by candles that glowed indigo. Everyone in the congregation wore white masks that covered their whole face, with the exception of eye holes.

I stood in the archway, transfixed by this procession. The more intently I gazed at the box at the centre of the table, the candles appeared to glow brighter and brighter. It isn’t long before I realised that the chanting had stopped, and all the masked faces were staring right at me.

The tallest one at the end of the table removed his mask first, and my heart skipped a beat. A boy, probably about eighteen, with messy, bright orange hair and piercing forest green eyes stared at me with a blank expression. Unlike most redheads I’ve seen, he didn’t have any freckles. His skin was a rich shade of porcelain and he was a bit lanky in build, but still, I could see he still had a bit of muscle here and there.

As if it was some sort of cue, the rest of the strangers started to remove their masks. On the orange haired boy’s right, sat a strong, short girl with smooth, chocolate coloured skin. Her expression was hard, her eyes brown and alert, and her mouth was sent into a scowl. Her hair swept her shoulders in black cornrows decorated with black, brown and dark grey beads.

To the left of the orange haired boy, sat a familiar face; Athena. Her tailbone length, sleek, white blonde hair fell around her narrow shoulders and her thin face as she went to stand.   
“Autumn…” she started, but the orange haired boy touched her arm gently and she resumed her seat. He slowly stood, taking his time to get comfortable. He studied me for a moment, then he looked at Athena.   
“Is this your sister?” he asked. His voice was smooth and sultry, and his tone of voice demanded everyone to listen to him, as if he were not just talking to my sister, but to the whole group.

Athena nodded a yes and tried to keep her eyes on her hands in her lap. Her green blue eyes and olive skin looked almost pixie-like in the indigo candle light. The orange headed boy gave a stiff nod and crossed the dining room towards me. When he stopped in front of me, I could smell his manly musk. How is it that guys are just automatically more attractive when they small nice? He held out his hand and I shook it.

“Autumn Barret, I presume? Yes. Your sister has told us quite a lot about you.” My brain paused for a moment to wonder where the hell this was going. ‘Told them what about me?’ I wondered. ‘Who even are they?’  
The orange haired boy continued. “My name is Jack, by the way. Jack McKenna. This lovely lady,” Jack hesitated as the chocolate skinned girl gave a little cough of disprovable.  
“As I was saying, this lady you can see sitting in the seat next to mine is Dixie. Dixie Kelleher. She’s our American representative, from New Jersey.”  
“Representative?” I asked.

“All will be explained soon enough, but for now, just listen.” Jack advised. “You obviously know your sister sitting on the left of me. This,” he pointed to the opposite end of the table where three more strange faces sat. He focused my attention onto the boy at the centre of the small group. He was a suave looking and tanned, with soft, hazel eyes. His dark brown hair was slicked back with gel; the retro look. With his cloak on, he looked sort of like a vampire that had been out in the sun for too long.  
“This is Fernando. He is Spanish and his English is not fully established yet, but he’s still learning.”  
“Hola!” Fernando chirped, and raised his hand in greeting.

I nodded my hello, and Jack carried on introducing the others. I learned that the tall girl with the dirty blonde hair and the spray-on-tan sitting to the left of Fernando was Australian.  
“Autumn, this is Stella Miller. Stella, this is Athena’s little sister, Autumn. I’m sure you two will become fast friends.” Fast friends? When did I agree to see these people again? What was I even doing here? I should’ve been upstairs asleep, not here with my sister and her emo friends!  
As my mind worked its stressful magic of weaving a large web of negative thoughts and emotions, Jack continued to introduce everyone one by one.

On the right of Fernando, perched on the edge of the chair, sat a small, mousey, pale boy with crystal blue eyes and sleek black hair that flopped over his face. A dirty, brown moth was hovering over his finger and he seemed as if he was in a deep conversation with it, occasionally lifting the moth to his ear and nodding his head slightly, then moving it to his mouth and whispering to it softly. He appeared to be the youngest of the whole group, even younger than me. I soon found out that he was fourteen and he was Jack’s younger brother, Martin McKenna.  
“Marty will have no problem adjusting to you once you are in the Legion.” Jack said.

“The Legion?” I asked, shocked by this sudden change in the conversation. “What the hell are you signing me up for? Some sort of cult?!”  
I pulled away from Jack, who tried to grab my arm and opened his mouth to say something, but fell short and stared wide-eyed out of the archway into the living area. I turned to see what he was looking at and came face to face with my equally wide-eyed parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're liking it so far... please leave nice comments if you have any constructive criticism or praise, I'd love to hear from you. Also kudos are appreciated :)


	4. Chapter 4

My dad was the first to compose himself. “Alright you lot! Get out of my house!” he barked. “I never want to see your slimy faces around here ever again! And you,” he glared at Athena, “can go straight to your room young lady and lock your door! I’ve had just about enough of your late night meetings with these… these… hooligans!”  
Jack moved around me and made his way over to reason with my father.  
“Listen, Anthony…”  
“Don’t you ‘Anthony’ me you slime ball!” my father growled. “If I see you or any of your crowd around my daughters again I’ll… I’ll… I’ll kill ‘ya! That’s what I’ll do!”  
“Ok, ok. We get the message!” Jack said as he stepped back with his hands up. “We’ll go. Come on guys.” He gestured for the rest of the group to follow him as he led the way to the door. As he went to leave, he brushed past me and whispered, “have hope”, before exiting out of the front door, his long, billowing, black cloak sweeping the floor as he passed the threshold.

When the last person had left, my parents turned on Athena.  
“How dare you bring people of that sort into our home!” my father raged. “We try our best to earn money to keep this house you know. Your mother cooks and cleans, I work two jobs just to earn a decent living, and what do you do? Nothing! You don’t help out around the house and you certainly don’t…”  
“STOP! Just shut up for once!” Athena screamed, before bounding noisily up the stairs and slamming the door to her room. The lock on her door clicked loudly and reverberated through the house.  
My mother turned her gaze onto me.  
“I suggest you go up to bed too. Go on! You’ll need to get up early today if you want to walk to school with Remaulda.”  
In all the excitement, I had completely forgotten that it was morning! I rushed up the stairs to my room and jumped into bed. My digital clock read fifteen minutes past two. Wow! Time sure flies when your emotions are as jumpy as live wires! What was it that Jack said about having hope? ‘Hope for what?’ I wondered. I decided to talk it over with Remaulda the next day, but for now, I needed to sleep. The feeling of tiredness washed over me like a wave on a sandy beach. I threw my hair brush onto the floor (which made a loud bang on the wooden surface) and drifted off to sleep in my dressing gown, dreaming only of one thing; Jack.



Four hours later, I awoke to the sound, not of chanting, but of my best friend, Remaulda, screaming my name from outside my bedroom door. My parents never did liked her. They thought she was, and I quote, “too boisterous”. But I’d always liked Remaulda, or Remy, as I called her. Not because she was wild, quirky and crazy, but because she always meant well and had the nicest personality of anyone I knew.

I managed drag myself out of bed and shuffle sleepily across the floor to open the door. “Ok, ok! I’m up!” I yawned, as I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes with my fist. Without my glasses, Remy looked older, with her incredibly short light brown hair and pale skin. I reached over to the bedside table and pick up my glasses. When I put them on, I could make out the distinct light blue streaks that were randomly placed in her hair. ‘They really bring out her blue eyes,’ I thought to myself. She was wearing a thick Gryffindor scarf and a Doctor Who shirt under her taupe woollen cardigan. Ankle-length, dark-wash jeans covered her slender legs and black Doc Martins on her feet. I could never understand how she didn’t feel the cold. 

“Well it’s about time!” she said. “I thought it would be like a sleeping beauty scenario, and I’d have to get Justin to wake you up!”  
“Hey! Justin was last year’s crush! This year I’m trying to keep my mind on my school work!” But it was extremely hard to do that when an attractive red head showed up at my house in the middle of the night.  
Remy laughed, and small dimples formed on her red cheeks, lighting up her pretty face.   
“Oh Autumn, pish posh! If I know you, you’re bound to have a new guy on your mind as soon as we get back to school today! Now quick! You’d better get your butt into gear before we’re late!”  
I giggled and shut the door. Remy never failed to make my day that one bit brighter.

I dragged my feet over to my wardrobe and picked out a black shirt, my Harry Potter jumper, my Ravenclaw scarf, a black pleated skirt, patterned stockings and calf-height, brown boots. I hurriedly brushed my hair, or ‘tamed the beast’ as Remy liked to call it, and rushed downstairs to breakfast with her. On the table, mum had prepared toast and jam, so we ate it hurriedly and ran out the door.



After what seemed like an eternity, the bell that signified lunch time finally rang. I bolted out of my classroom before Mr Quint could wish us a ‘happy lunch hour’ (as he always did). I caught up with Remy, and together we relaxed under a tree at the edge of the football field. Since it had just snowed the night before, we nearly froze our arses off on the frozen roots that stuck out of the ground!  
“What class did you just have?” she asked between chattering teeth.  
“English,” I chattered back. “With Mr Quint. You know? The really firm one that won’t stop asking you the same question until he gets an answer he is happy with?”  
“Yeah. I know the one. I had him for a substitute the other day. He was really crap! I don’t know how you put up with him!”  
“Nor do I. He actually asked us to write a short story for homework. A short story! Like I actually have time for that!”  
“Well?” Remy asked, seeming to quickly become accustomed to the cold now. “Did you do it?”  
“Of course I did. I had to. It was homework after all. It was this weird theme about gothic horror and all that. We’re learning about gothic literature, or something like that. So I wrote this,” I shakily handed Remy my homework.  
“Weren’t you supposed to hand this in?” she asked as she took the paper from my frozen fingers.  
“He said that I shouldn’t worry about it and that it was a ‘learning experience’. I mean, how stupid is that? He asks us to waste our time writing short stories for him and he doesn’t even have the decency to read them!” I folded my arms while Remy began to read my homework. It took me forever to type last night, only because I had to put my latest and most disturbing nightmare onto paper. It was my way of getting it all out there without it being seriously noticed for the wrong reasons. It went like this: 

“I am in the middle of a forest. The grass beneath my feet is green and covered in dew. Morning sunlight streams through the trees above. I move through the forest, brushing up against the bark as I explore further; getting deeper into the woods with each step I take. I feel weary and a little sick, but I push on. The warm sunlight starts to disappear and the cool, purple evening rolls in quicker than is possible. Soon, after much walking, I reach a clearing. Wind whistles through the trees and the cool grass rustles as I step out into the middle of the clearing. I can hear sounds all around me; insects, and something else that sounds inhuman. A deep, soulful wailing noise pierces through the darkness and the dark figure of a large animal bounds towards me, now exposed from the sanctuary of the trees. I try to run but couldn’t, I could only turn on the spot. When the creature is just in touching distance, it stops and stands to its full height. It is at least 8 feet tall, with long arms and large hands that brush against its bony knees. Its claws are bloodied and dirty, and its legs are strong and powerful. Its face is shrouded in darkness, but I can at least assume that it is as ugly as the rest of what I can already see. By now, it is night time, and the stars are very clear in the sky, along with a large, bright harvest moon. I look behind the creature. Where it had stepped, the grass had turned brown and died. I look back to the creature, to find that it is no longer an ugly beast, but a girl with black, curly hair. Her wiry curls brush against her shoulders as her black eyes seem to look right through me. Again, the feeling of weariness and nausea consumes me and I am falling into the black abyss.”

After Remy finished, she handed the paper back to me.   
“Wow! Creepy! But you know, that was actually rather good,” she said. “You should really consider becoming an author. But I have a question. Who is that little girl with the black hair supposed to represent?”  
“I don’t know,” I lied. “I made her up.”  
“Oh. Well she sounds creepy. So I congratulate you for supplying me with visual imagery to go by and really experience her creepiness first hand.”  
“You have no idea…” I said under my breath.

Out of nowhere, the wind picked up, making my homework slip from my grasp and blow across the field. I quickly got to my feet and chased after it. By the time I reached it, it had already fallen in a puddle of melting snow, and beginning to fall apart. I left it where it was and allowed it to decompose, and I started to walk back to where Remy was under the tree, watching me with baited breath. I shrugged my shoulders as I got closer. Suddenly, another icy blast of air brought down some of the icicles that hung from the tree’s strong branches. They narrowly missed Remy, who let out a small scream and dashed towards me. The tree creaked as the wind started to pick up even more, snapping off small branches and sending more icicles our way.

Remy ran past me and grabbed my shoulder with the intention of dragging me along with her, but I shrugged her off. Something caught my eye. A small, weird, stick-like creature with wings like delicate spider webs and small, needle-like horns atop its head. The thing that freaked me out the most, was the fact that it had no face. ‘Just like in one of my dreams,’ I thought. It faced me, and despair washed over me like a tidal wave. I wanted to crawl into a hole and cry my eyes out. I wanted to vomit, or cry, or cut my arms, or anything to rid my soul of such misery. Then, in a flash of black and yellow, the creature tore at top speed into a nook in the tree trunk.


	5. Chapter 5

That afternoon, I slumped on my bed and reflected on my day. One thing about me, is that I over think stuff too much. I told Remy about the little creature (in the strictest confidence), only to be disappointed when she didn’t believe me. I mean, how is that? That girl believes that Hogwarts exists but she can’t even believe her best friend! “You’ve been reading too much fan fiction!” She’d said. At the end of the school day we’d walked home in silence; leaving me to think about the mysterious creature, and her probably thinking I’d cracked my nut!

I leaned back so that I was propped up against my pillow. An overwhelming feeling of drowsiness suddenly came over me, so I decided to rest my eyes for a while before dinner.



I woke up in a cold sweat. My nightmare had almost been too real, too frightening to comprehend. As soon as I had drifted off to sleep, the nightmare started to play before me like an old film, except it was a film were I had the starring role.

The ground before me was a cobblestone pathway, with fresh green shoots struggling to reach the sun from between the stones. A small medieval cottage stood in front of me and the sky was blue and cloudless. The cottage was in the middle of a field, which looked to be on the outside of a small township. The windows of the cottage were dark, but I could hear talking from within its walls. I could hear children laughing and playing, and the parents, a mother and a father, laughing along with them. All appeared to be well and I smiled. I could feel their happiness radiating from the cottage and swirling all around me. The wind suddenly picked up, so I decided to knock on the door and take cover from the cold breeze. I walked to the door and stopped. The laughing had ceased and the sky had suddenly gone cloudy. Huge raindrops started to fall and I knocked hurriedly on the door. There was no answer. The rain was falling ever harder now, pelting down full force, so I opened the door anyway and rushed inside the cottage, slamming the door behind me. 

I faced the door, breathing hard, until my nose picked up a coppery smell. The smell got stronger and stronger, and when I turned around, my eyes were met with a grisly sight. Five bodies laid on the ground, all face down; a man, a woman, and three children. Their insides seemed to be pulled out from their backs and their spines were broken and misshapen. White, bloodstained cloth was wound tightly around their necks and their bodies were already starting to decompose; like they’d been there for a few days. I went over to the first body, a young girl with black, bristly hair, and tried to help in any way I could, even though I knew she was dead. As soon as my hand made contact with her cold, dead face, something brushed up against me from behind. I froze in fear and turned around to see nothing there. When I turned back, the little girl was gone, and so was the bleeding and bruised little boy in the corner. Soft, ghostly singing came from behind me again, and I did a double take. 

I looked behind me. The little girl and the little boy were standing there, their faces lifeless and blank, staring at me with white, pupil-less eyes. The singing grew louder, even though their mouths did not move. A wet sensation started to form in my belly button and then spread to the rest of my body. I looked down to discover that I was covered in blood. Distorted images of disembodied and decaying corpses started to flood my mind and my surroundings. The children’s singing rang in my ears, the world seemed to be spinning, and I blacked out.  
As my mind recollected the nightmare and tried to put into context, the click of a lock drew me out of my daze. I sat up. ‘Athena!’ I thought.  
I quickly scrambled out of bed, slipped on a tweed jacket and struggled to force my boots on my feet, fumbling with the zip in the process, before I was finally able to get out of the house into the freezing cold night. Without a second thought, I tore off down the street after Athena.

It was a particularly dark night. The moon hung low in the starless sky and its dim light barely lit the path in front of me. But I didn’t need to see; I could hear Athena’s footsteps slapping the pavement as she fled into the night. My heart beat a million miles a minute and I could feel raw adrenaline rushing through my veins, past the tiredness that had just before enveloped me. The feeling thrilled me as I sprinted through the darkness, the icy wind whipping my face. My lungs burned as I took in a new breath, but I knew that I had to catch up to Athena. I looked up and barely dodged a tree on my right. More trees presented themselves in the darkness and, by some miracle, I only narrowly missed charging head first into them.

A streetlight came into view up ahead and I knew that I was getting close to Athena’s destination. As I grew nearer, I saw a break in the trees and a small playground was softly lit by the streetlight. I heard muted voices, so I scampered behind a large, gnarled, old oak tree to avoid being spotted, where I crouched down and tried to be low-key. I waited a good minute or so before I allowed myself a peek at what was going on. The same teens from the other night were there. The one called Dixie and my sister were hunched over a picnic table, engaged in quiet conversation. Stella and Jack’s little brother, Martin, were on the swings, quietly observing their surroundings. And finally, I spot the one that I was secretly looking for the whole time. Jack was lounging on a wooden bench with Fernando, looking quite content. They all looked like they were waiting for something. That, or they were just bored and had nothing else better to do.

Before I knew what I was doing, I hopped up and started to stride over to where Athena was talking to Dixie. My boots made a squelching sound as they hit the wet grass with each step I took. Athena looked up and whatever conversation her and Dixie had been having abruptly ended. Everyone watched me as I made my final paces towards my sister, stopping just in front of her, at a safe distance from the others.

I started to open my mouth to reason with her, when Jack hopped up off the bench. Slowly, he moved towards me, taking long, determined strides. My common sense took over and I moved back, only to end up falling arse first in a patch of mushy grass. The impact of my backside hitting the puddle splashed subzero mud up onto my clothes, drenching my whole lower half.

But, to my surprise, instead of laughing, Jack just stood there, in the silence of the night, and held out a hand to help me up. I took it, feeling my cheeks and ears turn a bright shade of beetroot red.  
“Thank you,” I muttered.  
“Don’t mention it,” he said in that thick, rich, velvety, pure English voice that I’d fallen for. He had a gentlemanly charm and a smooth, seductive smile to go with it.  
“Sorry, I…I…I’m n…not usually t…that clumsy!” I stuttered, trying to redeem myself but ultimately failing. My teeth chattered from the cold and the freezing mud that was now caked to my arse made me want to crawl inside a hole and die of embarrassment.

Luckily for me, that wish turned into reality, as a hard object came down from behind and smacked me square on the head. Just like in all my nightmares, everything immediately went black.


	6. Chapter 6

The light streamed in from above as I started to come back to the real world. My perception of reality was a bit distorted as I tried to sit up, but only ended up moving my right index finger. My body felt so heavy and my thoughts seemed trapped in an eternal haze, but the last thing I remembered was Jack. Mm… Jack. Those delicious hard muscles under in a tight grey t-shirt, a blue vein running down the length of his left arm. Black skinny jeans and matching black, smart, shiny, leather shoes topped off his outfit, making him look positively divine. The way he had looked at me was so plain. His eyes just casually wandered over me like I was just some girl on the street. He would never be interested in me and my hair-beast. But there was something about the way his fists clenched just before I was knocked out. His arms stiffened as if he was trying to stop himself from reaching out and catching me before I hit the cold ground.

I imagined his thick hands roaming lazily over my hips, over my stomach (that I desperately needed to work off), up to my chest, my neck and finally, my face. If I concentrated hard enough, I could envision him stroking my face. I could feel it. Actually, it felt so real. His hands felt so rough, so clammy. His nails were sharper than I remembered. As I saw, he looked like he bit his nails; just like me. These hands did not belong to Jack.

My eyes snapped open and I screamed a blood curdling scream. A skinny, stick-like creature, at least 6-ft tall, inclined over me and was stroking my face with its cold, black claws. It looked like a bigger version of the creature I saw at school when I was with Remy. I screamed again, and again. The creature leaned closer, and I could see that it only had a single, black eye. It blinked at me, and I screamed again. Its claws moved closer to my neck. I suddenly felt so angry, as if I could tear someone apart and scream at them until their remains melted away. The creature’s claws stopped when it got to my jugular. I screamed one last scream, hoping someone, anyone would hear me.

The creature bent down and dug its claw into my flesh. I could feel a trickle of blood start to run down my neck and onto whatever I was laying on. The creature grunted and stooped its head to lap up my spilt blood.

BANG! Jack ran in over the busted door at the opposite end of the room, followed by Dixie and Fernando. The creature swiftly spun around and let out a high pitched squeal in Jack’s direction. The sonic blast from its voice knocked over all three of them. Its pointed feet stalked back over to where I laid, intent on finishing what it had started, but Jack was too quick. Before the creature could make a second move, Jack jumped to his feet and threw his long bladed knife at the creature, which sliced clean through its neck. The creature, now in two parts, lay limp on the ground. Dixie and Fernando ran over to where it lay. What I saw next, I could not believe even if I tried! Fire blasted from Dixie’s eyes and fried the monster’s head, whilst small, thorny vines shot up from the tiles around Fernando’s feet and engulfed the creature’s entire body. All around me, I could hear high pitched screams of pain, which quickly died out when Dixie threatened the creature’s ashes with her fire eyes again.

Jack collected his knife and walked over to where I lay, stiff as a board, my eyes glued to the spot where the hideous creature had just become a pile of red ash. My nostrils caught the faint aroma of burnt cinnamon as Jack took out a small, silver test tube and poured the ashes into it and sealed it with a silver cork. He ran a dirty hand through his bright orange hair and opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated, before shutting his mouth completely, abandoning any form of explanation that he had originally thought of. He wore the same as Dixie and Fernando. They all wore black, smart, collared shirts, black jeans and black, smart, leather shoes, just like the ones Jack wore before. The one exception was that Jack wore the long, flowing cape I saw him with on the night I caught him at my house.  
While Jack stood awkwardly, a few feet away from my mattress, Dixie and Fernando talked quietly in the corner, probably discussing the event that had just taken place.

I looked away from them and took in the room before me. I was laying on a stained mattress that had been shoved into the corner against a tall, timber wall. The ceiling was also timber, with small, intricate patterns and symbols carved in it that I couldn’t quite make out in my still dazed state. The floor was a mixture of brown, baby blue, green and red tiles that seemed to be lain out in no particular pattern or sequence. The door that Jack had entered through was flattened out on the floor, completely knocked off its hinges as if some freak wind blew it down. A large, lattice window above me that streamed moonlight in through thick, red curtains. It was the only thing lighting the room. The rest of the room was completely empty, save for an old looking mirror propped up against the opposite wall, just next to where the door once stood.

When I looked down, I realised that I wasn’t wearing the same clothes that I had on before. An ankle-length, white night gown covered my body and my legs. It was sleeveless, so my pale shoulders were exposed, radiating an unnatural glow from the moonlight reflecting off the mirror, lighting up my dark corner. Knowing my hair, it was probably a frizzy mess from laying down for so long.

Jack cleared his throat, making Fernando and Dixie look up from their conversation stare at him in silent anticipation. Slowly, he raised his free hand and held it out in my direction. I carefully sat up. Blood ran down my neck and pooled on the mattress as I got up. My bare feet touched the cold tiles and it stung my warm feet. I padded over to where Jack stood and accepted his gesture by placing my hand in his. His hand was slightly bigger and stronger than mine, but it was surprisingly smooth. I guessed that your hands had to be if you wielded a knife like that on a daily basis. Well, I just assumed he did. He seemed very skilled at it.

His long fingers caressed my hand and he cleared his throat a second time. I was still in shock of what had just happened, so I found myself incapable of speaking or uttering a single sound. He knelt down and placed the knife on the mattress, then his hand moved to my neck. He went to touch it and I flinched. It was beginning to really hurt now that the shock was wearing off. I couldn’t help myself. I cried. His arms enveloped me in a tight embrace and I wept into his shoulder, wetting his shirt with tears and snot. He steadily stroked my hair in a nice, even rhythm in an attempt to calm me down.

“W…What w…was t…t…that h…horrible t…t…thing?” I stammered, barely able to form actual words due to my continuous sobbing.  
“That information is irrelevant to you at the moment,” he nonchalantly said. “If you want answers, you’ll have to come with me.”  
“W…where? W…what are you d…d...doing?” I snivelled.  
“You’ll find out in due time. But you’ll just have to live in suspense for the time being.”  
I loved how his voice alone had the power to help me calm down and compose myself. His hand reached up to stroke my neck again, but when I put my hand up to stop him, I found that my neck was already healed. ‘How odd’, I thought.

This was getting way too weird, so I clumsily broke out of Jack’s embrace, feeling rather awkward, and took his hand. I don’t know what it was about him, but I would trust him with my life, considering I’d only known him for such a brief time period.

“Come along!” Jack said, as he led me over the fallen door and out of the room. Dixie and Fernando followed close behind. When I looked at them, I could still picture them as they were before; some sort of mutants! Dixie’s eyes produced fire and Fernando could make weeds grow from out of a tiled floor! Where was I? What was I here for? ‘Have I been kidnapped?’ I thought. ‘Well, obviously.’ I answered. ‘My parents are probably worried sick, wherever they are…’

I stepped out into a darkened hallway, but the change in scenery was a dramatic change from the room we were just in. Coloured graffiti filled most of the space on the walls and covered most of the vast hallway that stretched out before me. The amazing thing was that even in the darkened room, the graffiti glowed in the dark, creating a glowing path of bright yellow, pink and green arrows on the floor.

Instead of following the arrows, we went the opposite way, down a side passage that opened up when Dixie touched a glowing butterfly on the wall.  
“That’s hope,” she said as I walked past her, into the passage with Jack and Fernando. “Always have hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, irregular updates from now on, but I've planned out the rest of the story so I do plan on finishing it :) Thanks for reading, it means a lot to know that people are reading my stuff and hopefully enjoying it :)
> 
> Will update soon (hopefully) xo


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